High Noon
by Loopy777
Summary: Isn't Mai/Longshot a great idea for a crackship? I thought so, too.


**High Noon**

The battleground was a compromise.

The forest didn't even have a name. It was just a wooded spot in the middle of nowhere, perhaps the sight of an ancient civilization that fell to excesses or maybe a place that no human being had set eye on before. Either way, it didn't matter. Mai and Longshot were traveling through it when they happened to agree to the challenge, and this particular glade was the first suitable one they found.

The tall grasses would impede Mai's ability keep moving across the site, hiding holes and pits and any other little obstacles that could trip her up. The shadow and flame that were her robes would stand out like a beacon amidst all the green. Most dangerously, the only cover around was provided by the trees that bordered the glade, and she had never been much of a climber.

It would be no easier for Longshot. He worked best as a sniper, a hidden threat, and having to shoot on the ground, in a wide-open space, would force him to rely heavily on speed. His weapon was optimized for long distances, though, not quick shots, so he would also have to be deadly accurate with his first shot, or else extraordinarily lucky.

These two had a score to settle, and it had to be done fair.

They stood on opposite points of the circular glade, tall trees to their backs. Longshot had an arrow notched. Mai held a small curved razor between each finger of her right hand. Their eyes were locked together, never wavering, but taking in every detail around them. It was their shared gift, and the only thing they shared. She was an heiress whose stresses were all born of being wealthy, and gifted, and powerful. She had an empty life only because she had too much for any of it to have actual meaning. He was an orphan who had to make compromises just to survive, and turn his skills into deadly weapons. He fought, and did things that he perhaps now regretted, because when you have nothing but your life, you'll fight to keep it from being taken, and sometimes it's hard to know when to stop. She was from the Fire Nation, a country of conquerors, and she didn't even feel guilty about it. He was from the Earth Kingdom, a sprawling land of victims, and he had the guilt of two people, one who had done terrible things and one who had survived where others died.

It was time for them, or at least their weapons, to meet in the middle.

At once, they both realized that the fight had begun.

Mai threw her blades. Her arm moved so fast that it was a blur to her eyes, but her accuracy did not suffer for it. The blades fanned out in the air equidistantly, spreading out to cover not only the whole area where Longshot was standing but also the space on either side where he could possibly dodge.

Longshot released his bowstring. The arrow was flung forward with a crack that could have been the destruction of the sound barrier, traveling the most direct line from the archer to his target. Longshot's vision was so quick, so exacting, that he could see the slight spin of the arrow as it flew onward.

All the projectiles flew true.

All struck exactly what they were aimed at.

Mai turned her head to look at the arrow that had struck her. Or, rather, her clothes. The arrow had passed close enough to her neck to scratch her flawless pale skin, but otherwise buried itself into the neck of her robe and pinned it deep into the tree at her back.

Longshot could feel the cold press of several metal blades against the skin of his sides. He turned his gaze downward, and found three of the little projectiles poking through his threadbare blue tunic to staple it to the tree trunk behind him. He wasn't even cut at all.

Once again, Mai and Longshot gazed into each other's eyes from across a great distance.

She smirked. "I guess it's a draw."

His face was still as he spoke to her for the very first time. "Or you could say we both win."

Her smirk turned to a real smile, and his face mirrored the gesture. They pulled forward, ripping their tunics, leaving pieces of clothing-

-pieces of their pasts-

-stuck to the trees of this empty wood. They moved toward each other, toward the future, and left the empty land behind them.

**END**


End file.
